Shooting Stars
by Miakaghost
Summary: An orphan is picked up by a Sanzo and brought to the temple. However, at the temple he has 'problems' with one of his fellow priests-in-training, these problems being they beat each other to a bloody pulp. Sanzo ikkou appearin chap. 3
1. Finding Master Sanzo

Shooting Stars

Chap.1

_Talking….what had it ever done for me? A big fat nothing. That's what. I was thrown out of my house, and then it was burned down. _

_I'm just a kid, they say. I don't matter. I'm just a street urchin. No one should care about me, they say. I'm just some orphan brat, they say, and I deserve no respect or manners. All they say I deserve is a sharp insult and boot to the stomach. After all, I have no feelings, right?_

_……Or so they say. They? Who is they, you ask? They….'they' is everyone else. The children not but a year older than me, the children about to be teens, the children who are already teens, the adults, the elders, and even the crows say it. I can't hear them, but I just know, in their own crow language, that's what they're saying. _

_Once, I asked my mother, _

_"What are those bright things that fly across the sky?" She replied with this. _

_"Those are shooting stars, the spirits of those who have done great deeds or were of pure heart in life."_

_"Momma, do you think I'll be a shooting star some day?"_

_"Of course you will, Tante. Of course you will." _

_That was all a lie, wasn't it? It was, wasn't it, mother? How am I to be a shooting star someday when you're dead? When our house has been burned down? When I'm an orphan who barely survives as it is? How, mother? How?_

_I suppose I should be happy that I don't have to live in a cardboard box. Instead, I've got an entire alleyway to myself. It's not much really, but it's shelter in those trash cans, it's food in that trash. Not particularly nutritious, or even clean, but it's a living. _

_Then…he came. Above his head was an umbrella, and he wore such dazzling white robes, I had to turn away from him. He came closer to inspect me, and I attempted to escape the man. He caught me by the arm, and he stared me in the eyes. He was such a kind priest. Master Kinto Sanzo, the men following him called him. Master Kinto promised me a home, and he said he would take care of me. And for once….I trusted him. _

_And this decision is what brought about the legend of the immortal Sanzo. _


	2. Fist Fight and a Home

Gojyo: _looking at script_ Hey! We're not in here until next chapter!

Miakaghost: That's cause this story is actually focused on Tante, the narrator.

Goku: Why is it seen from his POV?

Miakaghost: Look, it just it. You come next chapter, anyways.

Sanzo: This can't be too exciting.

Miakaghost: Two boys, ages 10 and 11 beat each other nearly to bloody pulps.

Sanzo: ...You know, this might be good, after all.

Hakkai: What piques your interest scares me, Sanzo.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Shooting Stars

Chap.2

For a moment, I simply sat there on that porch, listening to Master Sanzo argue with his fellow monks about letting me stay. He seemed to be winning.

"What a stench!" A voice cried. Of course, despite this being an insult, this is how I ultimately met my first friend.

At the time I met him, he was Hao Sumata, a priest-in-training, and a pure human. Not pure pure, but he was human all the same. I thought he looked strange that first time I saw him in his white priest-in-training robes, and his ebony hair falling about his shoulders. Of course, I probably looked a sight myself.

I knew it without looking that I looked more than slightly disheveled. My copper hair was dirty, matted, and hadn't been cut in years, so it hung down the middle of my back, and was so filthy, it had dimmed to a dark brown color. My eyes, though still the same honey color they'd always been, had dimmed because of this lifestyle I had led. My clothes, just a tattered white tunic, and a pair of white pants at the time were only just barely holding themselves together, they were so threadbare. My face was so dirty and mud encrusted, I looked as if I was naturally tanned.

"Who are you?" The boy, Hao I learned his name was later, asked me. I shook my head, and put a hand to my throat. He didn't get it. "Talk already, you little urchin!" He snapped. Perhaps that's what set me off.

When Master Sanzo heard the thump and the scream of pain he rushed out to the porch. By the time he'd gotten there, I had Hao pinned on the ground, my knees straddling his hips to make sure he didn't move, and I had a rather sharp edged stone at his throat. From the way he was gasping and trying to cry out at the same time, I guessed the edge had started to cut into his flesh already, and also that the pressure on it was suffocating him.

For a moment, I felt Master Sanzo simply stand there, dumbstruck at what he saw me doing. Then, I felt two strong hands clutch my own and Master Sanzo pulled me off of Hao, and I saw the boy take labored breaths.

"Boy, what were you doing!" Master Sanzo shook me. He was mad at me. Tears began to roll down my cheeks, and I spoke the first words I'd spoken in three years.

"I'm sorry….so sorry." My answer probably made the man sorry for me.

"Look at this poor boy. Perhaps we really need to take him in. With problems like this, he really needs a home."

The monks simply stared at each other.

The next thing I knew, I was cleaned up, and sitting on a stool, letting Master Sanzo cut my hair.

"Welcome home,…boy?" I found the courage to try to speak.

"Tante….I'm Tante."

"Then welcome home, Tante."


	3. Of A Fist Fight and Broken Limbs

Shooting Stars

Chap.3

It was a normal day, most people would've supposed. That day I came to the temple was about three years ago, but Hao still doesn't trust me. Of course, with this kind of relationship with a fellow priest-in-training, no day could be normal, so this would be an outright crazy day, for it was already scripted to be strange.

The group was odd, and Master Kinto answered the door, so I didn't get to see them first of course. But when I did see them, I tried to stay out of sight.

I'd never seen another Sanzo before, so I was almost petrified when I saw the leader, the one Master Kinto referred to as Genjyo Sanzo. He had shining golden hair, and unusual amethyst eyes.

His followers were stranger. A copper haired boy with golden eyes, a brunette young man with a white dragon, and a crimson haired young man. Crimson? I believe Mother once told me that half-demons were born with crimson hair. Could he be a half-demon?

"My apologies for having little courtesy, Genjyo Sanzo. We've had a few small problems here." Kinto apologized. I winced when he said 'problems'. I knew he meant me and Hao. He hadn't stopped calling me names, so we got into fist fights almost constantly.

"Spying on Master Sanzo, eh? I should've expected as much from a brat street urchin like yourself, Tante." Hao teased from behind me. Unfortunately for him, I was quite fast, and actually pretty strong for a boy who's only thirteen.

Once again, Kinto rushed in to find me tackling Hao, but this time, our fight was in progress, and we didn't stop when we heard him enter.

"Look, you little brat, I'm just calling you a street urchin because that's what you are!" Hao shot back at me, trying to punch me in the stomach. I blocked him and gave him my own punch, which actually stronger. It's quite a pathetic sight when you consider he's a year older than me.

"I'm not a street urchin! Stop calling me that, you bastard!" I snapped. Hao grinned evilly.

"Why would I stop telling the truth, lil' brat!" He kicked me away from him, and I rolled back into the wall. Something cracked when I hit the wall, my shoulders or one of my arms perhaps. My arms both felt like lead weights, and felt like they were on fire, and yet were also numb at the same time, but I wasn't about to let that stop me. I rammed Hao out the door, and he landed hard on a rock, the sharp corner, and his arm turned into a bloody mass.

"I'm not a brat, and I'm not a street urchin!" I shot back.

"Calm down, boy! Calm down!" The brunette man moved quickly to hold me back from actually killing Hao. A shame; a minute more and I probably would have.

A little later, I'd been introduced to the group properly. The brunette man was Hakkai, the copper-haired boy was Goku, and the red-haired man was Gojyo, while the priest insisted I just call him Sanzo.

"What were you doing?" Hakkai asked, as he massaged my back. Both my shoulders had been dislocated when I hit the wall.

"He called me a street urchin." I replied simply. Hao glared at me from across the room, as I saw Goku carefully trying to bandage up Hao's arm. His arm was broken when he hit the rock.

"Tante, Hao, this has to stop." Kinto frowned at us. "Every time one of you insults the other, it always turns into a fist fight. Couldn't you two try to be friends?"

"Friends? With him? Master Sanzo, he nearly killed me back there!" Hao pointed an accusing finger my way.

"Point those fingers at yourself, you conceited little bastard! **You** nearly killed **me**!" I shot back.

"Boys, this is how it always is, isn't it? One of you says something, you nearly kill each other, and then you simply do it again. I'd rather you just act friendly." Kinto insisted. I frowned, and set my lips in a straight line.

"I just can't be friends with him, Kinto! He's totally conceited, and wouldn't even know his left foot from his right hand if it wasn't for labels." I narrowed my eyes. I jerked myself up, and attempted to swing a punch at him. Of course, it isn't wise to try to punch someone when both your shoulders have been dislocated.

I fell back on the bed, and my back burned with pain.

"Rest yourself, Tante." Hakkai patted me on the head, and Goku attempted to put Hao into the bed. He closed his eyes immediately, most likely to shut out his view of me. I figured it a good idea, actually, and did the same.

Truth be told, I knew I'd never get any rest. Not with Hao in the same room as me. Hopefully Hakkai stays here. I may want to kill Hao, but I don't want to go through the jury duty, and if Hakkai doesn't stay here, I just might have to.


End file.
